


Danish Dynamite

by Laroja



Category: Football RPF
Genre: (stfu it's april), Crack, I feel like I should apologize for this, I have no excuse for this, M/M, No Angst, except that it was fun, idk what this is, it's a christmas miracle, my brain just went 'what the hell', the skagger superhero au no-one wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laroja/pseuds/Laroja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin just wants to rob banks in peace. Too bad there's a new superhero in town who seems to have something against that. And oh no, he's hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danish Dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> DID SOMEONE SAY SKAGGER SUPERHERO AU? The answer is probably no but I've written it anyway. Kinda. I blame my obsession with everything Marvel for this.

Martin Skrtel shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly and adjusting his telescope until the object of his surveillance snapped back into sharp focus and he allowed himself a satisfied smile. With his free hand, he reached to his right-hand side, snagging the last of the fries he still had left over from his food run a while ago and stuffed them into his mouth, not taking his eyes off the scene in the apartment across the one he was currently occupying.

It wasn't his apartment, mind, but the owners were on vacation somewhere and he was sure they wouldn't mind him... borrowing it for a bit. Okay, so they probably would mind if they knew but they didn't and honestly? Martin couldn't care less. It wasn't as if he was intending to steal anything (the food that had still been in the fridge when he had started didn't count - you shouldn't leave food in your apartment when you were going to be away for several weeks; it would just go bad. Seriously, he had probably been doing them a favour), no, it was just that this apartment offered the best view of his target.

The target who was currently moving around in his own apartment across the street, apparently tidying it up and well, wasn't that an excruciatingly mundane task for someone as extraordinary as the man Martin was observing?

Daniel Agger - reporter by day, superhero by night. Danish Dynamite, as he was calling himself and Martin couldn't help but snort. Who the hell had come up with that ridiculous name? Seriously, it was half a miracle that no-one but him had figured out who Daniel Agger. How many other Danes could there possibly be in Liverpool? How many other Danes had the resources that could help with fighting crime as a masked vigilante? Good Lord, people could be so stupid.

 

Martin himself had met Danish Dynamite before he had even been aware that Daniel Agger existed. He had been out robbing a bank as per usual and everything had been going swimmingly as per usual until this guy in a ridiculous costume had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and had destroyed all of Martin's best-laid plans in a matter of minutes. Martin's lips curled in a snarl. He had been so pissed. It took a lot of time to work out a good plan for a proper bank heist and that particular one had taken him _weeks_ to perfect and all he'd had to show for it afterwards had been a few cuts and bruises from his fight with Liverpool's new vigilante and an article in the newspaper about the failed robbery written by one Daniel Agger.

After that first time, it had become a _thing_. Wherever Martin went, whatever plan he came up with, Danish freaking' Dynamite was always there to ruin his day and Daniel Agger was always there to write about it and rub it in even more. What an asshole.

The worst thing, though, was that Martin wasn't even sure he minded getting his ass handed to him by Danish Dynamite on a regular basis. It was kinda hot. _Danish Dynamite_ was kinda hot. Granted, Martin had never seen the guy's face but he could appreciate the lean muscle that were hidden beneath the ridiculously, wonderfully tight outfit, the strong legs and _damn_ , that _ass_. The eyes that he could see behind that mask were kinda nice too. Also, there were freckles. Martin was a sucker for freckles. So yeah, Danish Dynamite was hot and exactly Martin's type and the best thing was, he was pretty sure wasn't the only one who felt that way. There was _flirting_. Lots of it.

And Martin wasn't proud of it, he really wasn't, but at some point he had stopped robbing places for the profit and had started robbing them for a chance to see the hero again. Nobody could know about that. Ever.

Anyway, Danish Dynamite wasn't really the problem. Daniel Agger was. Without ever actually meeting the man, Martin had quickly begun hating the reporter with a passion. Daniel Agger had taken it upon himself to share every single one of Martin's failures at the hand of Danish Dynamite in painstaking detail with the entire world (or well, the entire Liverpool part of the world) and really? Who did that? Mean people, that's who. As if it wasn't already enough that he had to deal with being beaten up by someone called Danish Dynamite again and again - which was simultaneously embarrassing and kinky as hell - no, the next morning he got to read about it in the paper in all its glory. Just because Martin liked to rob banks didn't mean he didn't have feelings.

So he had decided to put an end to this whole thing before even more damage could be done to his reputation. He couldn't have other people thinking he was a joke because he went easy on one superhero. He could win against Danish Dynamite. If he wanted to.

He had tracked down the reporter but before he'd been able to do anything, he had recognized him. Danish Dynamite. Daniel Agger was Danish Dynamite.

It was obvious in the way the reporter moved, in the way he held himself; there was a certain grace about him that Danish Dynamite possessed as well. And Martin didn't recognize it only because he'd spent an obscene amount of time watching his arch nemesis. Absolutely not. Anyone who had ever seen the hero move would have been able to see the staggering similarities. He was sure of that.

But it wasn't just that. It was also his face. Yes, Danish Dynamite wore a mask but Martin would recognize those eyes and freckles everywhere. Because he was _observant_. He was not _obsessed_ with the vigilante or anything. Shut up.

Seriously, it was beyond Martin how no-one had ever made that connection. (Especially after he found out that Daniel Agger was from Denmark. Come on. We've already talked about that.)

To be honest, it made a shocking amount of sense. It certainly did explain how those articles about his fights with Danish Dynamite could always be so damn detailed and accurate. He had wondered about that.

 

All of that had led to where he was now. In an apartment across the street from Daniel Agger, watching the man puttering about his living room through a telescope.

It wasn't creepy or anything. Martin didn't do this because of this weird attraction to the other man. So what if he had spent more nights than acceptable jerking off to memories of the superhero? That had absolutely nothing to do with why he was doing this. He was watching Daniel Agger because he figured the more he knew about his nemesis, the easier it would be to beat him eventually. He was just doing this to give himself an advantage. Know thy enemies and all that jazz. The fact that he got to see Daniel Agger shirtless every once in a while was just an added bonus. And he _had_ always been curious whether those freckles covered his entire body. In a strictly professional way of course. (They did. As did the tattoos and holy hell if that wasn't another one of Martin's kinks checked off.)

This - watching Daniel Agger for hours straight - was just him being thorough. Absolutely nothing creepy about it. Nope.

He had almost convinced himself of that when suddenly, the hero lifted his head and looked directly at Martin. He choked on his fries. There was _no way_ the other man could see him, absolutely no way, it wasn't as if he had _super vision_ or anyth- shit. Right. He did have super vision.

Martin let out a nervous laugh. Okay, so maybe he _had_ been discovered. But what was Daniel going to do about it? By the time he'd be able to make it over to where Martin was, Martin would already be long gone and... wait. Where the hell had Agger gone?

Frantically, Martin searched the apartment for a sign of the superhero but he was nowhere to be seen and shit, shit, shit, oh shit, this was not good, this was -

"So."

Martin froze at the voice coming from behind him. Ah. Yes. Super speed. He had forgotten about that.

He slowly turned around to face the man who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked.

"Uh. Hi," Martin said.

"Hi. So," Daniel repeated. "Are you going to keep sitting here or are you finally going to come over?"

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?"

"I'm just saying. You've been watching me all day, you must be tired."

"You knew I was here the entire time? Why didn't you do anything?"

The superhero actually had the audacity to shrug. "I don't know, I thought it was funny."

"Funny."

"Yeah. But now it's getting late and I kinda wanna go to bed. I do have a rather comfortable bed, you know?"

"Oh, um, good for you?"

Daniel rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the doorframe. "If you wanna join me," he called out to Martin, already halfway out of the apartment. "The door's open."

 

And for a moment, it was almost as if Danish Dynamite wasn't the only one with superhuman speed.


End file.
